


Snapshots

by BloodiedRose



Series: Broken Crown [6]
Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Post-Series, Slice of Life, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodiedRose/pseuds/BloodiedRose
Summary: A series of oneshots showing pieces of the group's day to day lives





	1. Compassion

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these were actually written back in March, but my muse for this fandom is pretty much gone now and with it were all the plans I had. But I had these sitting on my computer and some of them I actually like quite a bit, so I thought I would at least post them. 
> 
> Chapter Summary:
> 
> A bad day turns to worse when Matteusz gets an unexpected visitor with some upsetting news. Warning for Parental Death and Homophobia.

The doorbell rang at seven in the evening, on a Friday. It had been a difficult day. Charlie had suffered through a difficult night and Matteusz had suffered with him, rubbing his sweat soaked back while Charlie muffled his screams into Matteusz’s shoulder. As a result, they had both been late to school and received detentions for it. To top it off, both had received poor grades on their last English assessment before their exams. Matteusz had slumped onto the couch the moment they had returned home and curled up against the side. Charlie had copied him on the other side. On his bad days sometimes it was all he could manage because it did not require him to think. It did leave a large gap between them, when all Matteusz wanted was to curl up with Charlie’s arms around him and his arms around Charlie.

When it rang neither of them knew what to do. Quill and her daughter were out again (where Matteusz had never asked), and if it was their friends they would either had received a text first or there would be loud shouting coming from outside. It was silent behind the door. Matteusz was tempted to just leave the door unanswered- it was too late to be the post, though it was too late to be anything really. The doorbell rang again and Matteusz forced himself to stand up. Charlie would never do it even on a good day; he seemed to constantly be forgetting that he did not have people to do that for him. He certainly would not do it when he had spent the day moving like he was underwater. Matteusz pulled open the door and felt the air be pushed from his lungs.

His mother stood on the doorstep. She was dressed as plainly as she ever was- in his life Matteusz had never seen her in bold clothes or even a pair of trousers. Sometimes he wondered if his mother was doing her best to be completely unnoticed. Even then she was still beautiful. Matteusz had taken after her side of the family more than his father’s, and he could remember his father joking about how lucky he was for the most beautiful woman in Poland to have looked at him even once let alone every day. Matteusz knew how he felt. 

“Your father’s dead,” she said, in Polish, before sliding past Matteusz through the door. Matteusz stood frozen in the door. The view outside had seemed far more pleasant a few seconds ago. And it was warmer- it was nearing the end of summer, but it was still warm evenings and that night had been no exception. Now it was just cold. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the world. And he was just standing there in the dark. 

Matteusz released his hold on the door and allowed it to swing closed. He turned around and only barely noticed how surreal it was to see his mother standing in the living room of his home. She was looking around, at the sparse decoration that made it look like a house from a catalogue, the scattered objects of comfort Matteusz had introduced, and everything that was not Charlie sitting on the couch. Charlie looked surprised to see her and turned to Matteusz. There must have been something written on his face because when Charlie saw his expression he stiffened and rose to his feet. 

“Please sit down,” Charlie said, just barely loud enough to hear. He indicated towards the couch he had just been sitting on. Matteusz’s mother glared at him but sat down anyway- at the table, not on the couch. Charlie looked at Matteusz and probably understood everything. Sometimes Matteusz wondered if his face was so easily read that even Charlie, who still was not comfortable with human facial expressions, could do it. Or maybe Matteusz was the only one who Charlie _could_ understand. It certainly felt like the reverse at times, so maybe it was rude to think that Charlie would not be able to understand Matteusz when Matteusz could understand him. Charlie gave Matteusz a sympathetic smile before heading to the kitchen and turning the kettle on.

Matteusz sat down next to his mother. She drummed her fingertips against the table, her fingernails too short to make the higher tap Matteusz usually associated with such an action (Quill did it often, and when she did it was always high taps. Somehow it made it even more threatening). They were silent, which made it that much easier to hear Charlie moving about in the kitchen. Matteusz was not sure if he should say something. His mother did not look distraught at first glance, but he could see the red rims around her eyes and on closer inspection her hair had not been brushed. 

Charlie brought out a tray holding the teapot, cups, milk, and sugar. He sat it down between Matteusz and his mother. A cup was handed to Matteusz and Charlie instinctively prepared it the way he knew Matteusz liked it. Matteusz did not drink tea often, preferring coffee most days and hot chocolate on the others. When Matteusz did drink it he only liked specific types, and it had to be prepared by Charlie. It was probably the abundance of sugar he included, but Charlie managed to make tea taste significantly less like warm water than Matteusz was used to. 

“I can do it myself,” Matteusz’s mother snapped when Charlie tried to prepare some for her as well. He did not seem offended, leaving it to her. Matteusz tried not to be offended on Charlie’s behalf instead. Preparing food and drink for the parent of your loved one seemed to be a symbolic custom throughout the universe. Or perhaps Rhodians had more similarities to humans than one would think. 

Charlie moved again, probably to leave, but Matteusz grabbed his hand. Charlie clasped it gently with his other hand and instead moved to sit at the far end of the table so as not to disturb Matteusz’s mother. It was where Quill usually sat. Matteusz had never been so grateful that Quill was not home. If a meeting between Quill and his mother did not end in murder then it would be a success. He found that Quill had a slight issue with parents actively rejecting their children for what she considered to be ‘petty human rubbish’, and Matteusz’s mother had never taken kindly to having her faith (or rather her misguided actions resulting from it) questioned.

“He had a heart attack,” his mother said finally. “Two days ago. Brought on by stress, they said. It has been a stressful time.” 

She glanced at Charlie as she said that. Matteusz wondered if she really believed what she was suggesting. If she really thought that if Matteusz did not love a boy her husband may still be alive. It was a tragedy if she did. Matteusz knew how much it destroyed someone to be lost in what ifs, even worse when the what ifs were construed entirely by their own mind. Matteusz knew that he could never convince her otherwise. Matteusz knew he should say something apologetic, but he was stubborn and knew she would think he was apologising for something he would never dare apologise for.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” she continued. “You are not to come. He had nothing to give you either. So I do not think you need contact me after this.”

“Why force yourself to tell me in person then?” Matteusz asked. He felt sick. It seemed not even in death was Matteusz worthy enough to be their son. She was his mother- they should be trying to get through this together. Not strengthening the gap between them. She was standing up, even though her tea was only half drunk.

“I had hoped-” she sounded wistful, but her eyes were hard as she looked at Matteusz and then Charlie. “Nevermind.” Matteusz did nothing as she walked out the door. Maybe it was the last time they would ever see each other but he did not have the strength to watch her go. It was easier to sit there and watch the wall instead. To let the tears slip down his cheeks in silence while the front door was shut.

As soon as she had left Charlie was out of his chair and wrapping his arms around Matteusz. The dam broke and Matteusz began to sob into Charlie’s chest. Charlie gently ran his hands through Matteusz’s hair and kissed the top of his head. In the back of his mind, Matteusz wanted to laugh when he realised that Charlie was doing to him what he always did to Charlie. Of course, Charlie only really had one source of learning how to give someone physical comfort. Gosh, they were pathetic.

“My Dad’s dead,” Matteusz sobbed and Charlie held him tighter. He wanted to relax into Charlie’s hold but his shoulders kept tensing as he cried. Charlie rest his cheek on Matteusz’s head and rocked him gently. Matteusz did not know why it hurt so much. His father had made it very clear that Matteusz was no longer his son in any way. But maybe, at some point in the far future, his father would have changed his mind. Matteusz could send him a wedding invitation and he would actually consider coming. But now the possibilities were gone. 

And a heart attack was so _mundane_. Matteusz had almost thought they were no longer possible. Death was in the realm of the previously thought to be impossible, and a normal death just seemed unnatural. Matteusz had expected for memories to bubble in his mind but there was nothing of the past in his brain. He could not think of the future either. When he was in Charlie’s mind the grief felt deafening, and everything he had ever seen or done was spread out before Matteusz in the moments of pain. But Matteusz could not think of his father encouraging Matteusz even as the bike wobbled with inexperience, or his face when his parents sat him down and told him that they were moving to England. He could not even think of his father’s rage as he banished Matteusz from their home. No past, no future. Matteusz just clung to Charlie and tried to ignore the what ifs.


	2. The Staff Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill is forced to have lunch in the Staff Room after her class is commandeered by students trying to avoid the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In primary school we have lunch in class when it is raining, but in high school it was rare. So kindly forgive plot convenient inaccuracies.

Miss Quill swiped through her Ipad, doing her best to avoid eye contact with anyone. She did not like the staff room. Adult humans were not as frustrating as their teenage counterparts but they still made her want to stab them with her pen. Apparently that was frowned upon. So normally she avoided the staffroom as much as she could. At most she would refill her coffee before retreating to her classroom to drink it. Unfortunately, that was not possible. It was raining outside, and therefore her classroom had been crowded with students with a frustrating desire not to get wet. Doctor Laughlin had ‘politely’ informed her that students were permitted to stay in the classrooms during lunch break if it was raining outside. And that under no circumstances was Quill allowed to cause them any harm or force them to do run laps in the rain until some students caught pneumonia.

“I only did it once!” Quill had replied. Doctor Laughlin had just arched an eyebrow at her before walking away. Doctor Laughlin was an infuriating enigma. Humans were absurd when she felt kind, but Quill felt that she at least had a basic understanding of how they worked. They were idiots at best and monsters at worst but they were at least something she could understand. Doctor Laughlin with her Melrik mind games and eternal sunshine attitude made Quill want to slap her. No one should be able to cope with teenagers every day and be so damn happy, no matter the species. She had also dared to question Quill’s teaching. Apparently it had caused distress to both pupils and her fellow teachers. Severe distress. How could someone who could not handle criticism when they got an obvious answer wrong possibly handle the real world? Then she had offered Quill counselling and claimed she was there to help. Quill still had not decided if her refusal to be afraid when Quill screamed at her was a sign of strength or extreme stupidity. 

Whichever was the correct answer, it led to Quill getting increasingly angry. She was giving her best glare, which had in the past proven to be a suitable repellent for humans. A small child had once cried in response to it. So too had a grown woman (but really, it was her own fault for trying to touch Quill’s child and speak to her in such weird noises. Who does that?). But Doctor Laughlin just sat down next to Quill with a smile on her face while nursing her mug of whatever it was she drank. It did not have caffeine, so it was clearly worthless. The outcome of this to and fro was inevitable. Quill was going to have to kill her. If the body was ever found it would just be sent to UNIT. From what Quill had heard, they were not likely to investigate the murder of an illegal alien. A literal alien who had not been granted permission by the sovereign of their chosen residence to stay there, not whomever it was humans referred to when they used that phrase. Humans used such foolish phrases. Many of them were figurative to the point of being nonsensical. At least it made the King squirm. 

Doctor Laughlin was drinking out of her mug now. Did she have to make that noise? Surely, she could consume liquid without swallowing. Ah yes, drowning her would be delightful. The rest of the staff were sitting very far away from them and occasionally throwing cautious glances in their direction. Doctor Laughlin was frustratingly well liked, even though Quill’s consumption of pop culture had led her to believe that these so called ‘psychiatrists’ were meant to be disliked by everybody. Which meant that they must all be looking at Quill and mourning the loss of their dear friend who was clearly about to be horrifically disfigured. Not that Quill would _mind_ doing the deed. She was just perturbed that everyone would assume that she would do such a thing. Of course, previous actions she had taken did indeed suggest that as a possible outcome, but the inspector had been a robot and none of the staples had punctured the skin anyway. 

“How is your delightful baby?” Doctor Laughlin asked.

“Why? What do you want with her?” Quill knew she was nefarious. The woman was clearly a monster from a planet where they delight in bizarre pleasures. Quill knew humans grew overtly sentimental around infants but the Melrik species wanted them as nourishment or something. Quill knew evil, and this woman was it.

“Just to see how she was. Charlie mentioned that she had been acting uncharacteristically the past few nights.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” It was, however, true. Her baby, who was usually so quiet and would never get them attacked on a covert operation, had now begun to spend all night crying. It had begun as confusing. It had felt like a betrayal of everything Quill had believed about her child and how much her child cared for her, as shown by her respect for Quill’s sleeping pattern. It had then turned to distressing. Quill was not the most maternal person in the world but she did feel emotions when her child was upset and possibly in danger. Now it was infuriating. Her baby slept upstairs, so it was the boys who were woken first and most often. But sometimes they could not calm her and Quill was forced to get up. It had been at least two weeks before she had had a reasonable amount of sleep. And now she was trapped in the staffroom because her class was being overrun by bored teenagers unable to go outside. 

“Her teeth may be starting to come in,” Doctor Laughlin continued. She blew on her drink to cool it down. Quill hoped it did not work and she ended up scalding her tongue.

“Quill children are born with all their teeth.”

“Humans are not.”

“She isn’t human,” Quill hissed beneath her breath. The other members of the faculty could not hear them, but they could hear each other. Doctor Laughlin raised her eyebrow.

“So her father is an alien as well? Interesting. Nonetheless, you carried her to term in a human body and so she may be subject to human growth rates.”

“I damn well hope not.”

“I’m experienced with children, you know. If you ever need a babysitter-” For once in her life, Doctor Laughlin silenced herself when Quill glared at her. “Alright, it was just an offer.”

“I have a babysitter. Or did you think I just left her on her own during school hours?”

“I was actually considering that you had hid her in the classroom.” That sweet moment of fear was gone and now- oh for pity’s sake was the woman _laughing_?

“Miss Quill,” the new headmaster said. Quill hated dealing with him, but she all but leapt out of her seat in order to get away from evil with red hair. “May I speak to you in private please?”

“Only if you don’t try anything,” Quill muttered. By which she meant pull a gun, or manipulate Quill into doing his dirty work, or any of the things Dorothea had done. Quill missed Dorothea. They stopped in an empty classroom. How was this classroom empty? Why wasn’t hers?

“I’m afraid this conversation is directed towards Andrea the guardian, rather than Miss Quill the teacher.” Quill groaned.

“What have they done now?”

“It’s more what they haven’t done. I’m a bit concerned about Charlie’s academic record.”

“What, did he turn in an essay late?”

“He has begun to fail English. His grades in all classes have begun to fall drastically, and when combined with his current attendance record I must admit I am concerned for how this year will turn out for him.”

For once, Quill felt defensive of Charles. Sure, he was a stuck up, self righteous, and oftentimes useless brat, but after everything that had happened throughout the year for her to be having this conversation about his _schooling_ of all the trivial things was quite frankly degrading.

“Considering it’s a miracle he’s even at school, you should be grateful for what you’re getting.”

“Doctor Laughlin has given me a full report, not detailed I promise you, and has given me her professional opinion that it is indeed a miracle he still is here.” Well, looks like she could do some things right. “But he is an extraordinarily intelligent young man and I would hate to see his future career be ruined by an unfortunate incident.”

Quill had seen many strange things on this planet. Words were frequently exaggerated in comparison to what they were describing, while sometimes they were downplayed for (usually comedic) effect. The Polish One was especially fond of it, referring to everything as fine even when he dropped a cup of scalding coffee over the floor when he was already running late for school. But the idea of calling surviving one genocide and committing two as _unfortunate incidents_ was beyond cultural differences. Having the decision to fight back against the urges of his mind taken by a rock (what was it with those children and rocks?) was not an _unfortunate incident_. And if the bell had not rung for the end of lunch, Quill would have shown the headmaster what an unfortunate incident really was. 

“That is our business,” Quill said as she stalked out of the classroom and towards her own. It was A Levels Physics waiting for her. The teenagers inside were laughing and talking animatedly, but that stopped when Quill slammed the door against the wall as she walked in. She was sure evidence of her lack of sleep had begun to peek through her make up, and she had just been subject to two of her least favourite people (while oddly enough feeling remarkably angry that one of them had insulted the third) without having time to finish her coffee. And now she was being forced to deal with rowdy teenagers who were far too happy for their own good. 

“Sit down, shut up!” Quill yelled. Everyone jumped but immediately did as she was told. Blissful silence fell through the classroom and she began to write the equation for the day on the board. “Solve it. Now.”

The class rushed to get to work. Unlike certain doctors, they knew to obey Quill when she was angry. Quill felt her eyes settle on Charlie. His grades had been falling. She had delighted in watching him get lower and lower grades and watching his frustration mount. But she had been equally frustrated. Some of his ineptitude was simply the result of him having given up on the Human ruse and using Rhodian knowledge to answer questions in a way too advanced for this planet. Other parts of it would have led to his tutors on Rhodia believing the King had been brain damaged. It did genuinely seem like Charlie had had the intelligence sucked out of him at times. Quill found herself feeling remarkably… sympathetic. She would still have to berate him about his grades. The boy needed to get a career so he could fit in with human society and most importantly _get out of her house_. 

Maybe she could convince Tanya to tutor him. All the teachers knew she did it, but couldn’t be bothered telling her to stop so that _they_ could do the work. Quill doubted any teacher loved their job that much. Perhaps Tanya could teach Charlie how to do human schoolwork again, and Charlie could take over for teaching Tanya how to fight, and Quill could just relax and criticise his performance in both areas. Though, considering how hard he had bruised her a few days previously with the kick to her ribcage, setting the King loose on Tanya may result in disaster. 

Frankly, Quill just needed a drink.


	3. Examination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group contends with one of their worst foes yet- exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to post this as a way of distracting myself from academic stress. I made a mistake.

“So, we just have to sit in a room for a few hours and write an essay?” Charlie asked.

“Three essays, one per hour,” Matteusz replied. His favourite time of year had arrived- exam season. In some ways it was a bit of a lost cause. After the year they had had, school work had been forced to the bottom rung on the ladder of priorities. Even Tanya’s grades had fallen (though hers had just gone from literally perfect to merely exceptional). Matteusz had long accepted that his grades in England would never be as good as they had been in Poland, but he had still prided himself on his high marks. Now he would be lucky to receive grades that were better than average. April had looked at her recent grades and broken down crying. They were all feeling the struggle.

Charlie’s grades had stopped decreasing, and that was a start. He had failed two assessments even though Matteusz had seen Charlie spend all of his free time working on them. Matteusz knew that Charlie was becoming disheartened in his school work, and some days Matteusz found himself wondering if it would actually be better for Charlie to drop out. High school was stressful on a good day, and Charlie had enough to contend with in regards to his mental health. But no matter how hard it got Charlie did genuinely enjoy learning and Matteusz refused to take away anything that made Charlie happy. Of course, that did not help when Charlie genuinely had no understanding of how exams actually worked.

“Is that even possible?”

“Not really, but they make us do it anyway.”

Charlie fell onto the couch, covering his head with his hands. It made Matteusz want to laugh. King of two lost civilisations who still cowered in the face of exams. Unfortunately, Matteusz too cowered in fear of exams. The Doctor had been underestimating things a bit when he said that fighting aliens were easier. Fighting aliens _and_ doing exams- that was a downright nightmare. It was a miracle that they were still passing the year. Matteusz would have thought that dealing with half of what had been thrown his way as of late would have thrown his academic success completely down the drain but somehow they soldiered on. 

Thankfully, History was the first exam for both Matteusz and Charlie. They could therefore help each other study. It had been a long sludge through their notes in the hope that they would have a vague idea of what they could write on. They had managed to get approximately half way before Charlie had tried to drink coffee in the hopes that it would help. It hadn’t. Quill had taken to coffee like a camel to water but it had had a terrible effect on Charlie. The abundance of caffeine and bitter taste had caused Charlie to spend the rest of the day shaking and at one point start crying because he couldn’t make his brain slow down. Matteusz was certain Charlie would never try coffee again, and had begun to seriously question his plans to get Charlie to try alcohol. If Charlie had reacted like that to caffeine even though he ate chocolate more than every other foodstuff combined, then his complete lack of immunity to alcohol would likely end in disaster.

Charlie groaned as he began to read through his notes the hundredth time. Matteusz rubbed Charlie’s shoulder before leaning over and re-writing the sequence of dates he needed to remember for the exam. It was a miserable practice, and Matteusz hoped that it would be somewhat worth it. Both of them had exams in all of their classes and this was the only one Matteusz could help Charlie with. Everything else Charlie was either better in or not taking. Even their portfolios were different- Matteusz had little understanding of how an art portfolio worked, and he was sure that when he tried to explain Photoshop to Charlie that his boyfriend almost had an aneurysm. But at least Matteusz could help Charlie with this exam, and seeing as the entire concept was what Charlie was having the most difficulty with he would likely be able to get through the rest easily. 

So long as there were no alien invasions during the exam period. Unless they got an aegrotat for that sort of stuff. Then the aliens just needed to attack at nine am Monday, two pm Wednesday, nine am Thursday…

\---

“I’m quitting school and becoming a hermit,” April declared. It would have been more impressive if she did not have her face buried in a pillow.

“You only failed one paper,” Ram replied. “That’s one less than me.”

“But I’ve never failed anything! Sure I’m not top of the class but I’ve never _failed_!” April buried her face back in, even though the pattern of the pillow was now beginning to become an indent on her face. Ram rubbed April’s shoulders while she sniffled.

“I think most of the class failed Physics,” Matteusz muttered. The entire exam room had collectively gasped when they saw the questions and realised they had no idea what most of them meant. Quill had jumped them all to university Physics but that meant they had no idea how to answer their current exam questions. When they got home, Matteusz had all but slammed the question sheet in front of Quill. He hoped that she would take the hint and actually teach them in accordance to it. Quill did not actually want them all to fail, but her complete disdain for the human school system was very much reflected in her teaching style. Tanya was probably the only person who got a semi reasonable grade on it.

“It was easier than the English exam. What in the universe is a _metaphor_?” Charlie actually had not done as poorly as everyone had assumed he would. Some things had still thrown him for a loop. By watching film adaptations, Charlie had actually managed to understand Shakespeare enough to write on it (though his grade was lowered for not including quotations, which Charlie maintained that it was cruel to expect him to memorise gibberish to use for one hour in his life). Literary techniques had thrown him completely out of his comfort zone. They had all had them drummed into them since they were young so they had not even thought that Charlie would not know them (apparently, they were not words the regulator thought worthy of translation).

“At least our portfolios had passed?” Charlie smiled at Matteusz and leaned his head on his shoulder. Well, Matteusz had managed to pass with his (with a decent grade, to his surprise). Charlie had gotten a near perfect grade. Matteusz could see why- it had been a gradual build from sketches, to pastels, to stark contrasts, then back again. Simple, then complex. It had been beautiful. It had also been terrifying; if Charlie had not already had a standing appointment with Doctor Laughlin he would now. It was not often you saw disembodied limbs in sweet pastel colours. As a pastel lover, Matteusz felt vaguely insulted to see his favourite palette used for such a frightening subject. It was now sitting beside Matteusz’s against the wall in their room. Charlie had found it awkward for Matteusz to display his portfolio in their room- he had been the subject, after all. So many photos of Charlie, usually taken when he did not realise Matteusz had his camera out. His smiles, his frowns, his far off looks spared for everything Charlie lost, all captured by Matteusz. And now they were side by side; Matteusz’s love and Charlie’s pain. As it should be. Not that Matteusz had been kept from Charlie’s art. At the centre of one board was a drawing of him the day he came up to Charlie and asked if he was alright. In those bright colours that replicated what Matteusz had felt while he was in Charlie’s mind. If the art department had not know they were a couple beforehand, they certainly knew now. 

“I think we should celebrate,” Tanya said as she got up. “Well, we can celebrate and April can grieve. I vote ice cream.”

“There’s some in the freezer,” came April’s muffled voice. Charlie got up to help Tanya with the bowls. 

“It could be worse. You could have failed Music?” April just groaned more. 

“You still passed the class,” Tanya said as she came back in. “We all passed our classes. Therefore, it’s a good day.”

April managed to cheer up enough to eat a good helping of ice cream, even though she did it with a pout on her face. Things had certainly improved with the introduction of summer. They had even managed to get Charlie to go swimming with them in an indoor pool, after terrifying him from going outside after April got sunburned. The chlorine had almost made him sick, but he had greatly enjoyed the day and would talk often to Matteusz about going again. And he had not even made Matteusz promise to keep them somewhere that Ram would not jump onto his back in order to be protected from April and Tanya ganging up on him in a splash fight. 

By and large they were all remaining in London for the summer. Ram’s mother had planned a vacation to India for her and Ram to try and move on after his father’s death, and Tanya was loudly complaining about being forced to stay with her grandparents for a month because of tradition while secretly smiling to herself when she thought of it in private. April and her mother had not thought of anything, but they had not discounted the possibility of trying to regain a sense of normalcy on a beach somewhere. But they had still made plans of all having a picnic in Ram’s backyard, and the list of movies and tv shows that they were going to introduce Charlie too was reaching eight pages on the frequently updated google doc. If the respite from alien invasions continued, and with the freedom from the stress of school life, they could almost be normal teenagers again.


	4. Mea Culpa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie finally tries to make amends to Quill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short one this time. I'm not entirely happy with it, but this is a scene that needed to happen.

Quill trudged through the hallway for her mid-sleeping tea. It had become a thing of sorts, that in the early hours of the morning she would wake up, check on her daughter, and then pour herself a drink. For a while the drinking of her tea would be accompanied by trying to glare the Polish one into leaving her living room and returning to his bedroom where he belonged, but his presence had become a less frequent event. She supposed that was a good thing. Even if it did make her lonely sometimes. The house was silent, so Quill assumed that this would be another night where Matteusz slept the whole way through. She would be left to drink her tea alone.

Or so she had hoped. Quill was fond of the Polish one. She could admit it with only a slight hint of shame. He annoyed her, but he at least did it in a way that made her amused instead of angry. But unfortunately he was not the only other person in the house. And even if she and Charlie had developed an understanding of sorts, she still fantasised about impaling his neck on a broken window every time he spoke. The King was not necessarily a _bad_ person but Quill did not take too kindly to men in power who abused her as an attempt to cope with their psychological issues. He had stopped doing that, for the most part, but it was still a prickly memory. That and he was just _irritating_. 

Charles had been good at keeping to their agreement- except for sparring sessions and school, they would avoid each other at all costs. Chances were he had no idea that she would be coming into the kitchen in the middle of the night, but that did not change that this was a severe inconvenience to her peace of mind. He had the decency to look ashamed when he noticed that she was there. Well, she liked to think it was shame. (It was actually a mutual disappointment that the other was present and they were not alone). His eyes were puffy in that way human eyes went when the brain was under stress of some kind. So he was upset. Which was just what she needed at two on a Thursday morning. 

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Quill asked as she filled the jug and put the kettle on. Charlie sniffed. She wanted to punch him. Not for showing emotions, it was nice to see that he actually had them. Just for existing. In her living room. At two in the morning. That was her private time.

“I do not think Matteusz would be comfortable sleeping in the same room as me for now,” Charlie replied. And how delightful, it was relationship drama. No matter the planet, or even the galaxy, relationship drama remained the exact same. Profoundly unwanted, especially if you were being forced to listen to the drama in someone else’s relationship.

“What did you do?” Quill asked. She was determined not to get involved, but that was offset by her curiosity. And some protectiveness towards Matteusz. Not that she would ever admit that. Charlie chuckled, in that dark way people did sometimes when they were laughing not at anything funny but at something that was causing them great pain.

“I… insulted him. I took my own pain and problems and forced them onto him.”

“You always do that. Your coping mechanisms are horrendous, _sire_.” The water was beginning to bubble in the kettle. Soon she would be able to have her drink. Charlie made another sound. He seemed to disbelieve her. Well, that was his prerogative. She was still right.

“Quill, why are you still here?”

“Because it’s my house.” She began to pour the now boiled water into her cup, and the scent of tea filled her nostrils.

“Then why haven’t you kicked us out?”

“Free babysitting.” It needed more sugar. Quill walked over and opened the fridge to get some milk.

“I could not bear to live with someone who treated me the way I treat you,” Charlie said. It was quiet, but more than loud enough for Quill to hear. She slammed the door shut, milk unretrieved.

“What did you just say?”

“It does not matter.”

“Oh no no no, Charles.” Quill stormed over to him and pushed him into the back of the couch by her grip on his shoulders. “You do not get to do that to me. What did you just say.”

His eyes flitted down so that he would not have to look her in the eye. There was a film over his eyes of tears that he refused to allow to fall. She wanted to slap him. He was not going to bring that up just well enough to ease his conscience but damage hers. She was not going to allow him to damage her any longer. He finally looked up at her.

“I treated you in a manner that had nothing to do with punishment of your actions. It was unbefitting of my position, and undeserved on your part.” Each word sounded like a struggle, but not one appropriated by those who did not truly believe in what they said. He swallowed and made his voice sure. Looked her directly in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

Quill stood up and squared her shoulders. He looked like a child as he sat there, his fingers digging into the upholstery. Her own hands were clenched with the urge to strike him. 

“You stole my actions from me. You made me unable to defend myself, or my people. Do you think that anything changes because you’re _sorry_?”

“No.”

“Good, you’re learning. Better than your uncle, who thought that if he just apologised for a massacre then we had no right to be angry about it anymore.” Charlie winced, and it felt good. The Duke had loved to quash rebellions by slaughtering entire villages, but always hid from the consequences. At least Charlie’s mother had had the decency to stand by her brutality. “I don’t give a damn about words, and _thinking_ that you want to improve things means nothing when it does not correspond into action.”

“The ahn is gone, what more can I do?”

“Figure it out.” Quill stormed towards the door, but stopped when she was about to leave. She rested her hand on the wooden door frame. “If the ahn was still in my head, would you take it out?”

Charlie did not respond. Quill was quite tempted to pull the door handle out and throw it at him. It would probably create quite a loud noise, and she was not in the mood to soothe what what surely be a wailing child for only a moment of satisfaction. 

“You are only apologising because you know that I have not hurt you since it had been removed. Otherwise, you would still be clinging to that fear. Understanding that you are doing something wrong means nothing if you only do something about it when you know there are no serious consequences. So no, I don’t accept your apology. But thank you.”

Quill could not sleep through the batter of contradicting emotions in her head. She did not hear Charles return to bed, so she hoped that he was suffering the same. He was learning, and would learn more as time went on. But someone in the universe had decided that she would be the guinea pig on which the boy King would practice his evolving morality, which was not something she was going to forgive easily. And to make matters worst, she had forgotten her tea.


	5. Saint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matteusz and Charlie have a discussion about Patron Saints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very attached to the idea that Matteusz was wearing a Saint Medal during the sex scene in 1x03, so I decided to do far too much research into what his Patron Saint would be. This is the result.

Matteusz sighed with contentment. He could feel Charlie’s soft breaths on his chest, the slightest of pricks where Charlie’s hair fell just so when Matteusz dragged his hand through it again. It had been a weird thing to miss, but Matteusz had longed for Charlie’s skin. Maybe it was because Charlie’s body as it was right now was technically not even a year old, but he had the softest skin. Matteusz loved to run his hands over it, and then his lips. He had missed the sounds Charlie made when he did it, the soft sighs because sometimes Charlie would get so happy his voice would not work. 

There had been a lot of things Matteusz had missed about sex. There was the obvious, because Matteusz was a teenage boy with a gorgeous boyfriend and hormones were a powerful thing. He and Charlie had probably gone too fast at the start of their relationship- they had fallen hard and fast and had felt no particular need to wait. It had left Matteusz unprepared for the ache of having Charlie right there and touching him every day but still not being able to have more. They had been very fortunate at the start, wanting the same things at the time. Now they were closer to the blushing young lovers they ‘should’ have been. Heck, Charlie’s sex drive had basically gone extinct from what Matteusz had been able to tell. Not that Matteusz had minded waiting. Matteusz would have been willing to spend the rest of his sex life with his hand if that respected Charlie’s desires. 

But he had missed _this_. Just lying in bed with Charlie, after the sweat had died down and their breathing was calm again. Having their arms wrapped around each other (even if it reminded Matteusz of how small Charlie had become) because that was their favourite place to be. Not needing to say anything and just lie there in peace. Matteusz blamed the complete comfort that he felt like this for his tendency to nap afterwards, because Rhodian biology had meant Charlie skipped out on that quirk of the human male. Not that it really mattered anymore when Charlie slept more than Matteusz did. Matteusz still found it annoying, when he loved watching Charlie struggle to stay awake while lying on Matteusz’s chest, or feeling the slight change in the way Charlie’s chest rose when he began to doze off. 

Charlie shifted against Matteusz, slipping one leg over his. Charlie’s lips quirked into a smile as he relaxed into their new position. Matteusz squeezed his arms around Charlie’s shoulders. 

“How are you feeling?” Matteusz asked. Charlie hummed.

“Good,” he replied, tracing his finger across the closest parts of Matteusz’s chest. He looked up. His blue eyes were sparkling in that way they often did. “I forgot how much I liked this.”

“Cuddling? Or sex?”

“Being happy.” Charlie pressed a chaste kiss to Matteusz’s chest, before resting his head on it again. Matteusz felt his breath stutter slightly. Charlie just hummed again, as if he had not said the most depressingly happy thing ever. There was a small puff of air on his chest like Charlie was laughing. “I’m definitely going to be sore tomorrow though.”

Matteusz tipped his head back onto the pillow and laughed. He could feel more puffs of air as he stared at the ceiling. At the stars painted above them. He felt like he was part of them, in moments like this. Like he and Charlie were a part of the cosmos, just pieces of stars drifting through space. It would be beautiful, to drift together. To be a part of the stars. 

Charlie began fiddling with the medal on Matteusz’s chest. Matteusz leaned down to press a kiss to Charlie’s head and returned to stroking his hand through Charlie’s hair. He loved Charlie so much in these moments, and could not comprehend the idea of ever loving someone more. But he could always love Charlie more. There could be no limit to how much Matteusz could love Charlie, because Charlie deserved more love than any one person could give. It would never be billions of people again, but between Matteusz and their friends maybe it would be enough.

“Matteusz, may I ask you a question?” Charlie asked. Matteusz nodded, pulling himself up so that he was leaning against the headboard. Holding Charlie’s shoulders to keep him from slipping down. Charlie flipped the medal between his fingers. “What is this?”

“It is called a ‘Saint’s Medal’,” Matteusz replied as he touched the object in question. “In Catholic church we have patron saints. Saints are people who did miraculous things, and they are put in charge of certain aspects of people’s lives…”

Charlie was nodding, but Matteusz could tell that he understood almost none of what Matteusz was saying. Not that Matteusz could blame him. It was easy for him to understand because he had been born into Catholicism, but for Charlie Matteusz may as well have been explaining the history of the Star Trek universe. Even Matteusz questioned some of the basic aspects of Catholicism on a regular if not daily basis and he had almost eighteen years of experience in the subject. Matteusz tried to think of a better way to explain. One that Charlie would understand better.

“Is like government,” Matteusz said. Charlie sat up. It was probably the only thing he understood. “When someone has a problem, they do not go directly to the King. They go to someone who focuses on that field, like… immigration officer or something. Patron saints are like that. If you have problem in life, you pray, which is like going to see a person about a… thing. You ask for guidance. But God is busy, so is best to go to someone else first. Patron saints also take care of that group of people.”

Charlie seemed to understand, but his brow was furrowed. He reached out to touch Matteusz’s fingers which were in turn touching his medal. 

“So… your patron saint is a medal?” He asked. Matteusz laughed and slipped it over his head.

“No, there is image of my patron saint on it,” Matteusz said as he held it up for Charlie. “See?”

“Who is it?” Charlie asked. He lightly touched the raised ridges with his thumb. It was as if Charlie thought it may break if he pressed too hard. 

“Saint Anthony of Padua,” Matteusz replied. “Patron saint of people looking for something lost. Lost objects, lost people, or something lost in the soul…”

Charlie handed it back to Matteusz, who slipped the medal back over his head. Charlie watched as it journeyed down to rest on Matteusz’s chest. Even then, Matteusz could tell that Charlie’s eyes were focused on the medal, instead of appraising Matteusz’s physique. 

“My Babcia gave it to me. When I was young, I would always lose things or forget where I had put them. She said ‘when you lose things, pray to Saint Anthony so that he may help you find them, and I won’t have to.’” Charlie snorted and began to giggle into his hand. “My parents… they thought it was appropriate. Because I had lost guidance in my soul.”

“You haven’t lost me,” Charlie said quietly, clasping Matteusz’s hand. Matteusz smiled. It was nice to hear those words from Charlie. A few months ago, Charlie had been so _sure_.

“May I ask you something, now?” Matteusz asked. Charlie nodded. “Why did you think you would lose me, during the detention?”

Charlie bowed his head. Perhaps Matteusz had gone too far again. The Detention had been made strictly off topic for the longest time. Even though so many worse things had happened since then, it was still a painful memory. The ramifications of their confessions still impacted the group and their relationships with each other and even to themselves. For Matteusz, it was a bit easier to deal with now. His and Charlie’s confessions had come true in the worst possible way. And now they could move on. There was nothing to fear because their fears had already happened.

“I told you,” Charlie mumbled. A mumbling King- Matteusz never thought it would be so adorable. “I believed that if I used the Cabinet I would lose you. And I… My truth was that I had already decided to use it. I did not know when, or how, or where. Part of me hoped you would have left me by then, so it would not be my actions that drove us apart. But I knew I would use it. And I thought… I still don’t know how you managed to stay.”

“Because I love you more than I could ever fear you,” Matteusz said. Charlie reached out to touch the medal again.

“Is there a patron saint for that?” Charlie asked. Matteusz laughed.

“No. Not yet, at least.”

“Maybe it will be you.”

“I would like to see my parents’ faces if that ever happens,” Matteusz said. A man canonised explicitly for loving another man. It would make his mother have a fit and father roll over in his grave. Though in fairness, that had essentially been the reason the apostles existed in the first place. Matteusz smirked.

“What is it?” Charlie asked. Matteusz just shook his head.

“I love you,” he said, and pulled Charlie in for a kiss.


	6. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bunghole Defence Squad vs Decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. I didn't mean to take this long to post this chapter, but I've had an extremely hectic few weeks being a responsible adult and trying to sort out my own future. Plus this is the last full chapter I have written and may be the last instalment of a fic that really came out of nowhere. This may in fact be the longest work I have ever written, and definitely is the most I have written in a certain time span. I'm somewhat annoyed that I have yet to get around to writing the original ending, but you never know. I have a few WIPs that I'm hoping I will someday finish but I'm not certain that will happen either. So if this is my last foray into the Class fandom I will end on something fluffy to make up for all of the angst I heaped on you. I'm extremely thankful for all the comments and support and hope I will see you again sometime.
> 
> So, enjoy.

Matteusz smiled awkwardly as he approached Doctor Laughlin. The auditorium (which was still a place Matteusz would rather do his utmost to avoid) had been transformed into two rows of booths, each containing a different teacher. He had been relieved beyond measure to discover his appointment was not with Quill. Baby Quill had been ill. A typical process for human mothers but for Quill it had been a never ending source of confusion, which had turned into frustration. The fact that the infant had begun crying through the night had not helped. Especially as the return of the school year was steadily approaching. Which was, of course, why he was here. And thankfully on the other end of the auditorium to Quill’s booth.

He handed Doctor Laughlin the small sheet of paper that had been mailed out. She smiled and directed him to a seat before picking the paper up to examine. Then she gave it back.

“So, Matteusz. What are you wanting to do with you career?” 

\---

“I wouldn’t recommend taking Maths this year,” Mr Campbell said. Ram shrugged in response. He had completely bombed the exam at the end of the year, and had only barely passed the class overall. Ram was hardly a genius but he saw no point doing a class when he knew there were subjects in which he could actually do quite well in. Like Physics. Terrifying alien warrior who threw staplers and all. 

“Physics and Geography I’d like to keep,” Ram said. “I’m open to suggestions otherwise. So long as I get into uni.”

“I thought you were looking for a football scholarship?” Mr Campbell asked. So maybe Ram had pushed the footballer thing a little hard in previous years. He had been damned good, too. He still could be. But losing a leg did somewhat damper his prospects in that area. Sure, he could probably take the football world by a storm. It would just take him a little longer than he had originally planned. And until then, he had things to consider.

“An education wouldn’t hurt though. Don’t want to be one of the poor sods who ends up broke and miserable, do I?”

“If that is your motivation, then may I suggest business or economics? Even if your maths grades weren’t… spectacular, you might find yourself more invested in subjects that you know will be beneficial to your future.”

“Business, eh?” Ram laughed. He could tell Mr Campbell was looking at him strangely for it, because teenage boys were not meant to laugh like they had just seen the world blow up and were trying to piece it back together again. “Gonna turn into my Dad, doing that. Screw it, let’s do both.”

\---

“Well, I like photography. A lot,” Matteusz replied. “But I’ve recently developed a strong interest in psychology.”

Doctor Laughlin smiled at that. Matteusz wanted to smile back, because when she had found him snooping through her psychology textbooks while waiting for one of his appointments (monthly, as opposed to Charlie’s weekly) she had responded by loaning him more. But he had come here with an express purpose. He leaned forward, pointing to the small column that both psychology and photography sat in. As in, they were on at the same time. As in, clash. As in, screwing with Matteusz’s future by virtue of lines.

“So do you see my problem?”

\---

“Physics?”

“Yep.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yep.”

“Maths?”

“Yep.”

“Biology?”

“Got it all.”

“Well, you’re sorted,” Quill said as she leaned back. The session still had plenty of time, so she allowed herself to sip at her coffee while Tanya slouched in her chair. It was a bad practice, and Quill should really try to convince Tanya out of it, but there was only so much time in the day. And Quill was not too keen on changing Tanya. She was rather fond of the girl, slouching posture and species ingrained failings aside. 

“What are you even planning to do?” Quill asked. It was the point of these stupid days, to try and learn what the student wanted to do with their measly human lives and how to best suit their courses to that goal. When Quill was that age, she was already taking part in protests against the newest Rhodian symbol of tyranny. 

“Dunno. See if I can get a full ride scholarship to Oxbridge or something, Maybe do a physics degree.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how you humans can stand to be so inept at that subject. I wish I could take you to a university on Rhodia, you would _flourish_. Aside from a brief adjustment period, of course.”

“How short?”

“Well, shorter than his royal dumbo seems to be requiring. Of course, Rhodia had successful intergalactic travel centuries ago, so we were perhaps better equipped with aliens than your astoundingly human-centric academia.”

“Hey! I mean, fair point, but still!”

Quill just smirked. 

“You know,” she said, leaning forward. Tanya did so as well. Quill had never been the most cautious at hiding her alien nature while at Coal Hill. The school had ears, according to her. It knew what was worth knowing anyway. The inhabitants on the other hand were irredeemably obtuse and thus knew nothing at all. But whatever this was seemed to be something that could only be whispered. “From what I’ve heard, there is a particular response for people who try to hack UNIT.”

“Oh?” Tanya asked. She felt the blood draining from her face. Quill and her had struck up a friendship, but maybe Quill friendships included scaring the living daylights out of each other. Just like some human friendships. Quill’s smirk grew wider.

“Job opportunities,” she whispered, just loud enough for Tanya to hear her. She quirked her eyebrows, and Tanya quirked her own eyebrows back. Quill leaned away again. “There is a rival organisation of some sort. Prefer the rebellious type. Won’t take them long to start knocking.”

Tanya leaned back in her own seat. She felt oddly satisfied with herself, like there was a cat preening inside of her chest. Fighting aliens all the time seemed like an exhausting job, but she was doing it already. At least if she did it as a profession she would be getting paid. Quill could be wrong, of course. But she very rarely was in matters such as this.

“So, how’s Baby Quill?”

“Still screaming through the night. I don’t understand why your doctors take so long to treat a slight infection in the ear, it’s absurd.”

\---

“Now, you’re sure you won’t give up one of those subjects?” Doctor Laughlin asked.

“Photography makes me happy. Psychology makes me interested. So I would very much like to keep them both.”

Doctor Laughlin frowned as she looked down at the timetable slip. 

“I have found a slight trend of students who like to take both photography and psychology. Not enough to be a correlation, but certainly enough that you would think they would not schedule the two in the same block.” She rubbed at her temples and sighed. She reached for her phone. “And yet they do it every year.”

\---

“Ah, well, we certainly can’t have our prodigy give up on music,” Mr Allen said. April beamed in response. “Geography and English, very good. But are you sure you want to continue Physics?”

“Not really,” April admitted. In truth, she did not want to continue with it at all. It was a hard subject on the best of days. And that was before she had gotten Miss Quill as a teacher. Maybe on Rhodia her method could be referred to as teaching, but on Earth it was just confusing and vaguely demeaning. If she had been a normal student, she would have given up on it as soon as she could. But she was not a normal student. Not anymore. So she would have to stick with a subject she hated because it was the only choice she really had. She did not trust her ability to keep up with alien invasions if she let go of the only class the Bunghole Defense Squad (oh gosh, she was starting to refer to them as that in her head now as well) had as a group. “But I feel like it would be a good idea.”

“Well, you have the first week to change your mind. Another humanities subject would be ideal, in your case.”

“I know.” She had looked over the courses and had day dreamed about what might happen if she took one of those instead. Perhaps she would end up with a year alien invasion free. But that could easily break their group apart. It had already happened once and she was not in a rush for it to happen again. She knew it was cynical to think that after everything they had been through, the group would just drift away from each other. But Tanya and Ram had plenty in common with each other but little in common with the rest. Her and Matteusz had never been that close anyway. And Charlie… April knew how much it hurt him to even look at her. If they did not have a combining thread, he would pull away from her with an eagerness, not a reluctance. 

“You’re sure you want me to put you down for Physics?”

“Yes, please.”

\---

“Well, good news.” Doctor Laughlin put her phone down. “Ms Birch is more than happy to let you do Photography with her Design class. I swear, sometimes the only reason they have those two classes separate is because one of them always ends up clashing.”

“Don’t most students who take one take them both?”

“Yes, well, I still stand by my point. So, that is ESL, photography, psychology, and physics. I think you have taken up all of the p subjects. And we’ve run overtime. This is what happens with these clashes, I swear.”

“Thank you, Doctor Laughlin.”

“Ah yes, no problem.” When Matteusz left, she was still muttering to herself about clashes, and how they would never have happened on _her_ planet.

\---

“Well Charlie, these class certainly have a wide breadth,” Mrs Kwon said as she peered through the classes he had highlighted, in the voice that was usually reserved for telling people that they were doing something wrong in the nicest way possible. Of course, Charlie felt like everyone was talking to him like that nowadays. Charlie bowed his head. He had done his best at choosing his subjects in a way that would both prepare him for future life on Earth while also just teaching his what life on Earth _was_. “What is it that you are hoping to do?”

“Well, politics, I suppose.” Charlie replied with the confidence of a fly. He had little understanding of how human politics worked. But he had spent his entire life being geared towards a very specific purpose and now that it had been taken away from him he was left floundering. Politics were a part of his blood, quite literally, but he had no desire to pursue it away from his people. But he was still a King, and someday someone was surely to discover that and he would be thrust back into that world. It would do him no good to be rusty.

“Well, History and English should be good for that I suppose. Physics and Biology would not hurt. But at A levels we encourage students to take no more than four subjects. Considering your bouts of illness last year-” That had been the official story, that Charlie had been ill. “And the time off you required for your recovery and may possibly still need, I believe that a course load of five subjects might be excessive. I would suggest that you drop fine arts.”

Charlie had been expecting it. There was no reason for him to take it. It was not something that would help him adjust to human life. If there was a call for him to return to his former duties, it would not help him with that either. The extra workload would be forcing himself to suffer under unnecessary stress. But art… art was the only thing he understood on this planet. It was the only thing to keep him sane on some of his bad days. The only thing that kept the darker thoughts away from his mind. It was Charlie’s indulgence. He had permitted himself many on this planet, ones that his friends would think nothing of but would have caused his mother to give him a beating until he came to his senses. But he yearned for it. 

“Could I… drop English, maybe?” Charlie regretted it as soon as he said it. He might need English. He had not been shown to have lackluster command over the language in written or verbal form, but he felt as if he had to take it. His careers counsellor did not look pleased with his suggestion. She sighed.

“You must be very fond of art,” she said. Charlie gave her a shaky smile.

“I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matteusz's class schedule is me still being bitter over the heart attack my high school gave me when the timetables were released. No one makes me choose between photography and psych (says the woman who ended up dropping both because of clashes at university)...
> 
> And now for the headcanons that have absolutely no bearing on how this fic was actually going to turn out: I think Tanya in Torchwood would be an absolute lark. Jack would introduce her to Martha and then the universe would explode with awesome. Matteusz and psychology just match for me, he would be amazing. I have no idea what Ram would do, but I like to think of him bringing serious amputee rep and getting all the endorsements. And hanging out with the Last Leg gang because I do what I want. April becomes the folk legend that we all know she is. Charlie gets A Break (becomes a househusband who is also a famous artist). Quill has not committed a murder since her daughter was born. As far as anyone can prove. 
> 
> Comments are very much welcome, especially if you have never commented before. I can sometimes be a bit iffy on replying but I assure you that your comments are very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome.


End file.
